The negotiation between the Archangel and the guerrilla unit ended in a strange atmosphere.
"In short, while we welcome the Earth Forces' arrival here, we don't have the luxury to hold a welcome party right now." The scar-faced man named Sahib glanced at Cagalli, who had already returned to the group.
Then, he turned his gaze toward Roz, who was patting Kira's shoulder, squinting slightly.
Earlier, when Kira and Cagalli seemed to have some kind of conflict, Roz had stepped in to stop them from fighting and disrupted the tension in the room. That left a deep impression on him.
"In short, you want ZAFT's force distribution map and a route to leave this area, right?" Sahib turned toward Murrue. "We can provide those things. But in return, we need you to help us with something."
"…What exactly is it?" Murrue's tone carried a trace of caution at Sahib's proposal.
"This isn't the place to talk. The Desert Tiger could attack at any time." Sahib shook his head and continued, "Let's move to our forward base first, then I'll explain in detail. How about that?"
"We came here with goodwill, after all. Besides, with two MS on your side, you could easily subdue us if you wanted."
Faced with Sahib's invitation, Murrue instinctively exchanged glances with Mu.
"…All right."
-----------------------------------
"This forward base… is a bit too close to the city."
Inside a naturally formed canyon, Roz sat in Jesta's cockpit, scanning the guerrilla unit's front-line base and the distant town.
At the moment, Roz wasn't wearing a pilot suit but his regular clothes.
Kira, meanwhile, was piloting the Strike Gundam, helping to drape the camouflage net provided by the guerrillas over the Archangel.
The guerrillas, who called themselves the "Desert Dawn," glanced curiously at the Strike Gundam and Jesta whenever they took breaks from their work. However, compared to the Strike Gundam, their eyes lingered longer on Jesta.
After all, intel on the Strike Gundam had long been circulated and was fairly well-known. But this never-before-seen Jesta naturally stirred their curiosity far more.
"And this kind of armament…" Roz zoomed in on the temporary weapon pile the guerrillas had assembled and narrowed his eyes.
Rocket launchers, missile trucks, various rifles… but no MS or MA.
In a world where MS and MA had growing tactical importance, a guerrilla force armed like this could indeed repel—or even destroy—a single BuCUE. But the cost of doing so would be…
"To destroy a BuCUE, maybe a seven-to-one exchange… or even worse, ten-to-one."
At that moment, Big Haro, having read Roz's thoughts, spoke up. "Even a mediocre MA would completely overwhelm this kind of arsenal—let alone the BuCUEs that ZAFT has fully deployed."
"…Pretty brutal." Roz leaned back in his seat, lost in thought.
Beep beep… beep beep…
At that moment, the communicator sounded an incoming call.
"Roz, this is Murrue." Murrue's voice came through after he connected the line. "Can you come over for a bit? There are some things I need to ask you."
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"Yo, Murrue, what did you call me for?" Roz walked into the headquarters of the guerrilla base, glancing around.
Radios, maps, some supplies and weapons… yeah, this was pretty much what Roz imagined a guerrilla base would look like.
"Roz, you're here." Seeing Roz appear before her in his flight jacket, Murrue let out a small sigh of relief.
"So, you're the pilot of that unidentified mobile suit?" At the large table inside, Sahib sat cross-legged on the desk, holding a cup of coffee.
He looked Roz up and down for a moment.
"I'll be direct," Sahib said finally. "I can provide you with some supplies, a rough ZAFT deployment map, and two possible routes to leave this area." As he spoke, he pointed to a spot on the map.
"But I need you to deal with the ZAFT land battleship Lesseps operating in this region. You just need to lure them away for a while—of course, if you have the ability to destroy them, that's up to you."
"…Why do you need us to lure them away?" Murrue asked, puzzled by the request.
"To connect the two guerrilla regions," Sahib said, circling two points on the map. "The Lesseps is right between us and another guerrilla unit. Behind that ship lies the Desert Tiger's territory—heavily guarded."
"As long as we can get one or two days, the tunnel we've been digging can be completed. Once the guerrillas on the other side can move, we'll have much greater freedom to act. We'll also be able to transport water and supplies from their side."
"Can't you go around?" Natarle looked at the surrounding terrain, confused.
"Are you going to pay for it?" Sahib rolled his eyes. "Just finishing that tunnel has already cost us a lot of resources."
"Then once it's done, how will you defend it?" Roz looked up from the map, his gaze sharp. "ZAFT will eventually find out about the tunnel and counterattack your base. With your current weapons, your chances against the BuCUEs are slim."
"Even if the odds are slim, we'll still do it." Sahib's tone was firm now. "This is our chance to turn things around. Asking me to give up and just sit here waiting to die—impossible."
"This is the African Union. It's the land of Africans, not some ZAFT occupation zone."
"If we lose our limbs, we'll make prosthetics from iron pipes. If we lose our eyes, we'll do logistics work. And if we lose our lives, we'll make sure to take at least one ZAFT soldier with us." Sahib grabbed two folders beside him and tossed them onto the table.
"For the future children who can one day run freely across this land." His eyes now burned with a fire of rage.
"We must drive every last ZAFT out of here—leave none behind!"
Roz flipped open one of the folders. Inside were recent reports:
Victoria Port occupied; new ZAFT forces landing at Gibraltar, and Gundam sightings confirmed; ZAFT's advance continues to accelerate…
They were all bad news. No wonder Sahib was in such a hurry.
"So fierce… I guess this really is what they mean by 'different lands, different people,' huh?" Mu said, trying to ease the tension.
Roz didn't respond. He had noticed something new in the report.
The Atlantic Federation has deployed a new autonomous combat system, temporarily slowing ZAFT's advance toward the Atlantic, but the system has an extremely high failure rate.
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Gibraltar base — an office.
"Thanks for coming all the way from the homeland to Gibraltar." On the video link, Rau Le Creuset still wore his signature mask. "The Duel and Buster aren't as badly damaged as Blitz, but the hurriedly made replacement parts will certainly reduce performance."
"According to Captain Andrew's intelligence, the 'long-legs' landed in this area." Rau's mouth curled into a small smile as if a thought had just occurred to him. "The home side arranged a copy unit for you this time — partly to assist you in chasing the long-legs, and partly for testing."
"You mean those white GINNs? Captain Rau." Dearka's expression turned odd as if he'd realized something. "Those are—"
"That's the new plan proposed by Councilman Durandal." Rau was practically bursting to laugh in his office as he spoke. "You all know: because of the genetic defects of the Coordinators, newborn rates on the PLANTs are very low."
"ZAFT loses pilots when they die in battle. The Naturals on Earth, with their high birth rates, don't have that problem."
"To make up for that weakness, Councilman Durandal spearheaded the copy-unit project and cooperated with a civilian organization deep into genetic research…" Rau outlined the project's broad details, completely ignoring Dearka and Yzak's uneasy faces.
"After a loyal elite soldier sacrifices himself, the copy units are born." Rau leisurely lifted his teacup.
"Don't have too many scruples — the lives of copy troops are a currency. If we get sufficient results, we're free to spend that currency as we please." Seeing the two's pallor, Rau tried to soothe them with words.
When the call ended, Dearka finally exhaled.
"Yzak, tell me… is the arrival of those copy units a good thing?" Dearka said, voice uneasy. "Why do I feel so unsettled?"
"For that, I can't say." Yzak touched the bandages on his face and, feeling improved, peeled one off. "The fighting is only going to get fiercer."
"But if you ask me my opinion on that unit — I don't know." Yzak opened a nearby screen.
On-screen sat a row of soldiers in white uniforms, faces almost identical, movements nearly the same, quietly waiting in a lounge for orders.
The scene had an uncanny atmosphere that made Dearka and Yzak uncomfortable.
"No wonder Captain Andrew refuses to accept these new units," Yzak said, strangely understanding Andrew's decision.
"All right, stop looking." Dearka closed the screen and took a deep breath to steady himself. "Let's discuss how we continue chasing the long-legs."
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PLANT home orbital colonies.
In a facility aboard a colony, the councilman Durandal that Rau mentioned stood before a huge screen, deep in thought.
"Are you sure about this? You've opened Pandora's box." A disguised voice spoke through the comms beside him.
"I can't wait that long. Rather than watching things decay, I'll press the accelerator." Recalling his own thought process, Durandal tried to keep his tone even. "Besides, isn't this what you wanted to see?"
"Heh heh, yes." The voice over the line chuckled. "Then I won't disturb you. Future President Durandal, enjoy this moment of victory."
When the comms closed, Durandal exhaled slightly.
"Rather than letting this world grope for a path through endless war," he murmured, "I'll launch the war to end all wars myself and reveal the single correct path."
...............